Tyrian Adventures
by Anaeli Faller
Summary: One monk. One ranger. One giant world that needs saving. Can they do it? Or will they drive each other insane first? Rated T due to future content.
1. Chronicle I: I

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. That'd be ANet.  
Yes, I'm back from my mysterious hiatus. TEUF will be updated hopefully before the year ends. Been distracted lately._**

* * *

"Welcome to Lion's Arch!"

"Step right up! One of a kind armour right here!"

"Need a new weapon? Say no more!"

Lion's Arch.

A bustling city of trade, where travelers gather together and chat, trade secrets and lore. Some come from faraway lands, others from Kryta or Ascalon. Some even come from the far Shiverpeaks, escaping from the frost of the north.

A young figure walked through the crowd of people, feminine hands was holding but a simple blue staff, matching the blue set of Ascalonian clothes suited for a typical monk and fitting the figure of a woman. Her brown hair was tied into two buns, a ribbon draped around both. And strapped to her waist was an item bag.

Behind her was a much-taller male, clad in intricate, foreign-looking black armour made of leather. Strapped to his back was a quiver of arrows, a bow on his left shoulder as he followed behind. He wore a rather intimidating mask over his face, a typical Dread Mask.

The monk kept walking on, almost crashing into a person. But the male ranger stopped her in time, grabbing her shoulder.

"Watch where you're going," the stranger grumbled before walking off, eyeballing the pair before walking off towards the square.

"Thanks, Lost," the female said, turning her head up towards the ranger slightly. But her ice-blue eyes never focused on him, or anything for that matter.

"Anytime."

The monk turned her head from side to side, seeming to look around for something. Lost sighed, taking off his mask to reveal his face, long, earthy-brown hair falling neatly on his shoulders.

"Merchant's over this way," he said, nudging her in the general direction. The brown-haired monk flared red instantly.

"I-I know that! I'm not an idiot like you!"

"This from the girl who spaces out when she's in foreign territory... "

"Shut up!"

They went to the merchant, selling the things they gained from their travels. It had accumulated to quite a bit, what with fighting the Charr and various monsters like Mergoyles on the way to Lion's Arch. The trip had not been easy.

"So what's our next plan of action, Luria?"

The female monk looked again at the ranger as she finished selling. After pocketing the money she sighed softly, turning to Lost and folding her arms.

"We request help from the White Mantle," she explained, soon leading him away to talk by the great monument, where fewer people stood. "They can help in our fight against the Charr."

"I dunno," the ranger started, looking around Lion's Arch. "They have their own problems to deal with, too."

"Then we help them as well."

"What about Rurik's death? We have to tell someone soon."

Luria opened her mouth to speak but then shut it again when she realized she could think of nothing to say. Memories of but a few weeks ago flooded her mind, remembering how the Ascalonian prince had been trapped by an avalanche of all things, truly the one thing that seemed able to stop him.

"We'll tell someone when we have to. For now, let's just think of getting the Krytan's help."

A commotion nearby caught their attention, the young monk and ranger looking around for the source. They saw a crowd of people gathering. Having nothing better to do, Lost and Luria decided to look.

It was a scrimmage, from what it seemed. A warrior clad in Charr-hide armour had drawn his weapon upon a slim figure, a female from the looks of it, dressed in a rather impressive get-up. From the blue-and-white corset upon her torso to the long, blue skirt with what looked like white ornaments hanging from a belt. She wore simple sandles that roughly resembled ones from Ascalon. She also wore a hood over her head which extended to cover her shoulders. In her hands, which were shielded by vambraces, was a scythe of all things.

"It's a Dervish," Lost explained, catching the look of curiousity upon Luria's face. "They're from Elona and Vabbi."

"Isn't that pretty far from here?" the young monk asked.

"You could say that... "

The warrior charged at the dervish with a feral battle cry, sword raised high over his head. The hooded female only seemed to smirk, pulling her hood over her eyes before raising her scythe to block the attack. However, the warrior didn't appear to be one to give up easily, swinging his weapon back and thrusting it back in for another attack.

The hooded figure seemed to giggle, sidestepping the attack, throwing the unsuspecting warrior off balance. Next the dervish gripped her scythe firmly, doing a simple and elegant twirl, the handle of her weapon shooting out and smacking the warrior's back. Just the stance she took seemed to elicit awe from the crowd, though she seemed to only be aggravating the warrior.

"You're just asking to be smacked, Elonian," the Charr-clad warrior growled low, turning on his heel to face the dervish.

"Don't be so rude," she said, lowering her hood and letting her long, black hair fall neatly into place over her shoulders. The man only charged forward again, sword ready to strike. But she ducked under it, scythe once more shooting out in a sweeping arc and sneaking behind the warrior. She smiled casually as his eyes went wide as saucers, stepping towards him and leaning up to his face.

"That's Castellan Faller to you."

Lost and Luria watched as the crowd cheered, watched as the dervish released her victim. The young monk seemed to be hypnotized, her ice-blue eyes never leaving the foreign female.

"You know," the brown haired ranger started, tucking his Dread Mask away into his item bag, "we've been pretty lucky with just the two of us. We'll need someone with close combat if we plan to go farther."

"Is the great Lost actually doubting his abilities in combat?" Luria asked, eying him for a moment before turning and walking away, ignoring the scowl he gave her.

"You know what I mean, Luria! And at least I can actually fight... "

"I can fight!"

"Whacking things on the head with your staff doesn't count."

The monk glared at the ranger who just scowled right back. Then she spun around, folding her arms again.

"Either way, it's not like we could afford a mercenary now. And I don't think we'll find one willing to stick around until we do have the money."

"Today might be your lucky day, then~"

Ranger and monk jumped, Lost slightly startled by the pair of female arms snaking around his waist from behind. Both travelers realized it to be the dervish from the earlier scrimmage, dark eyes looking seductively up at the brown-haired male. Up close, she was actually fairly tall, perhaps only one or two inches shorter than Lost.

"I'm not sure I trust eavesdroppers," Luria remarked, scowling at the dervish.

"Relax, child. I don't mean any harm," Faller replied coolly, coming out from behind Lost. She didn't seem to let him go, though. "I just want to propose a deal."

"We don't have any money."

"You're quite the stiff, aren't you?"

"As much as I love a good catfight," Lost interrupted, taking the dervish's arms from around his waist and turning to look at her, "can we get to the point?"

"Alright, alright. My deal is this."

Faller stepped back, one hand on her hip while the other shouldered her scythe.

"You take me to the Temple of Ages and pay me ten gold pieces a kill, and I'll help you as long as you need it," she proposed, dark eyes surveying the both.

Lost and Luria exchanged looks, the monk scowling and shaking her head. Some sort of conversation must have gone on, though, for she sighed and simply turned around while the ranger addressed the dervish.

"Alright. You've got a deal."


	2. Chronicle I: II

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. That'd be ANet.  
_**

* * *

"So... we need to get to D'Alessio Seaboard. Assuming there's no fighting, it should only take us a few hours."

Luria and Lost - once again wearing his Dread Mask - were knelt on the ground, surveying their map while Faller guarded their position in the North Kryta province.

"I've heard the Tengu here are fairly aggressive," the dervish remarked, looking back at the pair for but a moment before returning her gaze to their surroundings. She lifted her scythe as a fire imp passed by, lowering it when it didn't seem to notice them.

"They just don't like humans. Though according to my old teacher, the ones in Cantha are quite tame," Luria answered, scanning over their route. The North Kryta Province wasn't a very treacherous place, though parts of it could get fairly confusing if one wasn't careful. She frowned slightly in thought. "It should be a straight trip to the west for D'Alessio. From there, we head northwest to and through Nebo Terrace, stopping at Bergen on the way. We'll enter the Cursed Lands from there, which is where the swamp starts. The Temple of Ages is located in the middle of the Black Curtain. We'll have to be careful."

"That's the plan, anyway," Lost said, standing up as he gripped his bow again, offering Luria a hand to help her stand once she had folded up the map.

"Do your plans normally go smoothly?" Faller asked, turning to face the two.

"Not at all."

"... That's not particularly assuring... "

"They do work out in the end, at least," the young monk answered, shrugging before kneeling on the ground and picking up a stray rock.

"Well, let's get going before night falls," the dervish suggested, gripping her scythe tightly before spinning around and slashing at a fire imp that had been attempting to sneak up on them. She spun on her heel and faced the group of imps that revealed themselves, charging at them. Lost quickly pulled out an arrow from its quiver, shooting it with ease and piercing the skull of one.

The dervish elegantly seemed to dance around the enemies, aided by the occasional arrow from the ranger. Power seemed to surge through her form, though it was swiftly cut off as the final imp was killed. She wiped the blade of her scythe on the grass, ridding it of the monster blood.

"Not bad," the ranger remarked, stepping over beside her.

"I hope your eyes were on your target," Faller responded, a mischievous light in her eyes. She didn't need to see his face to guess what it looked like. Her thoughts scrambled as something whizzed past her suddenly, listening to the following screech that resounded. She and Lost looked towards the screech, finding a lone fire imp pinned to the ground, its belly impaled by a simple blue staff.

"Let's keep going," Luria said, walking past the ranger and dervish. She took the staff from the corpse, wiped the blood onto the grass, and continued on.

Elonian and Tyrian exchanged looks, the latter shaking his head in slight exasperation. Lost knew that, for a monk, Luria was quite dark. Of most that he'd met in his travels, they had all been cheerful and eager to help. He'd had a hard time fending one off in Ascalon when they had seen a scratch on his arm.

Luria, on the other hand, would let him die in a heartbeat if he pissed her off, a fact made evident by the countless times on their journey when they had gotten into fights. It was a good thing he was more skilled than her in battle and could heal himself if need be.

"Your girlfriend is quite something."

Faller's voice was enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

"Are you nuts? She's not my girlfriend!" he snapped instantly, glarin at the dervish from beneath his mask.

"Whatever you say," she responded, a smirk on her lips that really made him glad he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "We should get going before she uses that spear on us anyway."

"Spear?"

As Faller walked forward, the ranger glanced ahead to find Luria conjuring up some spell no doubt to use on them. He sighed and just decided that picking up his pace would be in his best interest.

This monk had serious issues with violence.

Then again, after the way he'd found her, he could hardly blame her.

* * *

_It was barely a year after he'd heard about the Searing of Ascalon, one of the two countries where humans had been born. He had been born in the Far Shiverpeaks himself and only really had to deal with Asurans, Dwarves, Norn, Charr, and the occasional brainless monster (though the Charr could fit that category as well)._

_The war with the Charr was famous all around. You'd have to be stupid not to know of it._

_Lost decided to travel to Ascalon under orders from the Vanguard in hopes of finding possible new recruits (as Langmarhad put it)._

_What stopped him was, one day, finding a certain human tripping and falling while a Charr brigade chased her in the Diessa Lowlands area. The ranger had managed to take care of them swiftly._

_She was young, that was for sure. No older than fifteen. And all that was on her body was a poor excuse for a dress. Bruises and dirt covered her pale form, and she shook all over as she looked at him. The only thing giving away what she was had been the tattoos on the back of her hands.  
_

_"P-Please! You have to help me save Gwen!"_

_"Who's Gwen?"_

_"She's my friend! We were supposed to escape together but the Charr caught her... please, you have to help!"  
_

_"If she was recaptured, her attempt at escaping is going to give her a death sentence."_

_He knew that was the last thing she'd wanted to hear. That's what the tears trailing down her cheeks told him.  
_

* * *

"Hellooo? Tyria to Lost? Anybody home?"

The ranger snapped out of his thoughts for the millionth time that day, apparently unable to keep from reminiscing about the past. Even now, it was somewhat difficult to connect the current Luria with the one he'd met that day at the Diessa Lowlands. Back then, she had been helpless and frightened, unable to cast even the simplest of healing spells. Now, she was confident and downright scary, even a little bit... inhuman. She had withdrawn herself from the world. It was sad how much this war changed people. He knew that even he had changed.

Looking around, Lost noted that they arrived at D'Alessio somehow... and it was getting dark.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging slightly as he looked to Luria, the one trying to catch his attention.

"Did you even hear what I said?" the young monk asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Lost was rather glad his mask hid his expression. Luria only sighed and let her arms drop to her side.

"The Confessor is currently inspecting the village of Hakewood and Temple of Tolerance. We're to wait here until he arrives here tomorrow, or so the Mantle say."

"Which means we set up camp right here," Faller announced, suddenly appearing behind Luria and capturing her in an embrace. The dervish seemed oblivious to the monk's attempt to get free. "No one will need to stand guard since we already have the dear White Mantle to protect us from harm."

"What is it with you and touching people!"

"A full night's rest? There's a first," Lost responded with a laugh, deciding to take off his Dread Mask and pack it away. "I'll probably end up stay awake out of habit."

"What a troublesome life Ascalonians seem to live." The dervish only smiled as she rested her head on the monk's shoulder, ignorant of the increasing struggle. The ranger only shrugged, taking a seat against a nearby tree and setting his bow beside him, momentarily glancing at the other adventurers seeming to set up for the night as well.

"You get used to it."

* * *

_"Help, help! The undead are attacking!"_

_"Archers, ready your bows!"_

"What the hell's going on?" Luria muttered, sitting up tiredly as she rubbed her eyes, looking around sleepily. By the time she'd regained some sense of normal use of her senses, she realized Lost and Faller were already up and about with their weapons in hand, scanning the area. The monk blinked once, failing at holding back a yawn. "Guys?"

"They're sending everyone back to Lion's Arch," the Castellan answered. "They've sent some Knights to rescue—"

_"T-They're at the gate!"_

_"What the hell are you waiting for? Close it, close it!"_

The trio listened as the big iron gate closed shut, listened as captains ordered archers to fire at will, as knights outside fought with the onslaught. They exchanged glances. Faller was the first to look back to the gate, her ever-devious smirk making its way back onto her face. They definitely wouldn't let them just pass on through and help. From the looks of things, the White Knights would never make it to where their precious Confessor was.

"How badly do you two want to talk to this Dorian?" she asked, eyes scanning the area, never looking back even as Luria got to her feet with her staff in hand.

"We need Kryta's help if we want to beat the Charr in Ascalon," Lost explained, picking his bow up off the ground and gripping it tightly. "Without them, we don't have any hope."

"I see."

The dervish seemed to get a knowing smile, shouldering her scythe and walking towards something, away from the commotion outside the wall. The ranger and monk followed her curiously until she stopped suddenly at the right end of the wall, away from the Knights' wandering eyes.

"Well then. I suppose the only thing we can do now is help."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Luria asked, folding her arms in annoyance. "In case you didn't notice, they aren't going to let us through."

"That's why we don't ask them, silly," Faller replied, a slight bit of laughter in her voice as she stepped up to the wall, her hand roaming its surface until it slipped into it. The Ascalonians stared in disbelief at the phenomenon as the Elonian only looked back at them with that smile on her face.

"We just use their emergency exit."


	3. Chronicle I: III

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. That'd be ANet._**

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this... "

"Oh, don't be a drag! We're helping them out while we're here, anyway!"

"You don't have to keep gremlins away so you can cast!"

Lost could only shake his head as he fired an arrow at a ghoul, impaling it in the head and watching it die. He was caught by surprise when a sharp slash attacked his leg from behind, hissing and stumbling before he was able to face the undead ghoul trying to make a meal out of him. The ranger took an arrow from the quiver and using it to run the creature through. When he could finally shake the corpse off, he found himself unable to put weight on it.

"Watch yourself!"

Something powered him up, giving him enough strength to move out of the way of a phantom that was quickly obliterated by Faller. Sighing, the last of the recent group of fiends gone, he became more aware of the stabbing pain directed at his leg.

"Having some difficulty?" the dervish asked, a smirk beneath her hood once again.

"I've never fought against the undead," Lost replied, kneeling to examine the wound as Luria came over.

"It looked like it was trying to make you dinner," the monk remarked, placing her staff flat on the ground.

"Can you fix it?"

"Mm... barely... "

She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, murmuring a soft prayer.

"Dwayna's grace, purge us of our ailments... "

It didn't take long before a blue glow appeared over the cut, a gentle warmth flooding through the ranger's body. When all was said and done, the flesh looked like it had hardly been touched.

"You got better," Lost noted, poking at the tender flesh. He flinched slightly at the small prick of pain, but he managed to stand up.

"I've been studying and practicing," Luria replied with a shrug, getting to her feet and dusting her clothes off.

"You two are of completely different status," Faller said, reminding the Ascalonians of her presence as she shouldered her scythe. "And judging from how you're dressed, you're not from the same area."

"I'm from Ascalon while Lost is from up north in the far Shiverpeaks." The monk folded her arms, staff still in hand.

"Ah, I see... it must be cold up there."

"You'd probably freeze to death," the ranger said, adjusting his Dread Mask once more.

"Oh, I don't know," the Elonian mused, "It can get fairly cold in Elona at night."

"It's not cold unless you've seen snow."

The dervish only shrugged before continuing on, leading the way for the adventurers.

Their goal was to get to Confessor Dorian in the Temple of Tolerance and make sure he was alright. They had overheard the White Mantle mentioning having lost touch with him, and figured it was as good a place to start as any. It was a straightforward path anyway, and their only real worry were the ever-numerous amounts of undead. Most of which seemed to have a desire for human flesh.

"There's too many of these things!" Luria groaned, forced to almost hide in the back while Lost and Faller attacked.

"We should come up to the village soon," the Castellan answered as she sliced up a number of her foes, watching as the phantoms and ghouls evaporated.

"How would you know?"

"It's a lucky guess~"

Before the monk could retort back, screams caught their attention. The trio of travelers turned towards the source, running towards it without a second thought.

Corpses covered the little village of Hakewood, with some villagers fighting as best as they could. Children cried for their lost parents, ghouls attacked, phantoms struck with lightning. It was chaos. The village had been overrun with the undead.

"We're too late," Faller whispered, bitterness in her voice.

"How did this even start happening?" Lost asked, though clearly it wasn't a question directed at anyone. He had heard of the undead rising to attack unlucky travelers, but never by these standards. Something had to be orchestrating this. Unorganized as it was, this was too suspicious.

His thoughts cut off immediately when Luria dashed right by him and the Castellan, cursing swiftly under his breath. "Luria! Get back here!"

"If we don't do something, the undead will take over the village and move on to the wall!" the monk called back, jumping down from the hill with ease.

"Is she crazy?" the Castellan exclaimed, pulling her hood down. "She'll get herself killed!"

The young monk didn't acknowledge either of them, taking her staff and impaling an unsuspecting ghoul with it. She took it back and finally stood at the center of the village, holding her weapon out in front of her and closing her eyes as a blue light began to surround her.

"O divine spirit, hear our plea... shield us with your might... "

Her eyes snapped open and glowed slightly as she began to twirl her staff around, soon pointing it up towards the sky. A blue light shot out from it, raining down and forming a barrier around her and the rest of the villagers who, upon realizing what had happened, stared in awe at the young monk. The undead struck and slashed, attempting to land a physical hit but always smacking into the invisible barriers surrounding the humans. Faller and Lost watched with wide eyes, the latter taking off off his mask to get a better glance.

"So she does know fairly powerful spells," the Elonian remarked, surprise evident in her features.

"Her teacher was a powerful monk back before the Searing," the ranger said, putting his mask back on and readying his bow with six arrows. "He had to have taught her things before the whole fiasco."

"I see, I see... "

Lost released the arrows, shooting them down at the nearest group of undead. Following the lead, the dervish slid down the hill, hood up and scythe at the ready as she ran into the battle, slicing up the undead in her way.

It wasn't long before the village was clear, the undead slain and vanishing in puffs of smoke. Luria dropped the barrier when Lost and Faller joined her, looking over at them and their slightly-irritated expressions.

"You cannot go charging to a battle blindly," the dervish spoke, scythe's hilt on the ground. "Especially given how little you know of fighting."

"Someone had to do something," the monk retorted, folding her arms. "So I did."

"You will die with that mindset."

"It's better than doing nothing!"

"I have seen countless numbers of Sunspears that way."

Before Luria had a chance to react, Lost decided to intervene, stepping in between the two girls.

"Enough," he said, "This doesn't need to turn into a fight." He looked to the monk, not entirely surprised when she didn't flinch. "The Castellan is right and you know that. Next time, warn us of you're going to do something that crazy."

"If I do that, you won't―!" The brunette was cut off when the ranger up and flicked her forehead. She rubbed the now-sore spot, frowning at her companion.

"Just listen, alright?"

"... Fine... "

"Hey! You guys are the reinforcements, right?"

The trio looked towards the strange voice, finding a knight of the White Mantle to be running up towards them. He caught up to them before they had a chance to run or try to hide. The man was tall, his red cape fitting his frame. The golden armour glistened in the sun, and one had to wonder just how he managed to stand wearing it.

"Well, what are you standing there for?" the White Mantle asked, glaring them down from beneath his helmet. "Hurry to the Temple of Tolerance and defend Confessor Dorian!"

And then he was gone.

"Krytans aren't very bright, are they?" Faller remarked, holding her scythe behind her back. "Perhaps the poor man couldn't see much from that helmet."

Neither Ascalonian decided to respond.


	4. Chronicle I: IV

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. That'd be ANet._**

* * *

"We have to go through that... to get to the Temple of Tolerance?"

"Looks like it."

"Oh, come on. It doesn't look that bad."

"This swamp doesn't give me a good feeling at all," Luria muttered, fiddling with the end of her staff. "And not because of the undead crawling all over it."

"We won't get anywhere just standing here," Faller responded, shrugging carelessly as she led the way once more, scythe shouldered. One step towards it and the rancid smell hit her, and she instictively covered her mouth, disgust plastered over her face.

The trio trekked through the swamp, careful to avoid the gaseous green sludge. They had started getting used to fighting the undead, started finding different strategies to use against them. At times Lost felt he was overwhelmed, but Faller seemed to come in at the right moment to defeat whatever creature was trying to turn him into food. And Luria's gifts of healing seemed to be extraordinary.

The Castellan was definitely powerful in strength and could most likely put any warrior out of business, not to mention the apparent grace in her steps. It was no wonder she was at the rank she was. The young monk could surely grow to perhaps even rival her old teacher. If anything, she might even become world-famous. It would be interesting to watch these two, that was for sure.

The smell of the swamp hit him hard, and he grimaced beneath his mask and come back to the present. If smells could kill, consider him dead.

"Lost, hand me a couple of your spare masks!"

The ranger looked back at the monk, who was looking at him quite seriously. Unable to follow her train of thought, he figured it'd be safer to follow her command, despite how weird it might be. He gave her ones he figured would work for her. She accepted them and gave one to Faller. The dervish stared at it curiously.

"You... want me to wear that?" the dervish asked.

"Yup."

"... You really are quite young, aren't you... ?"

"Shut up and do it!"

Complying with the fierce command, Faller put the mask on as well, a puzzled look evident in her eyes. By now, the two main fighters were curious as to what would happen next, especially when Luria took a different hold on her staff. The young monk - without hesitation - directed the sharp end of her staff into the green sludge, making quite a splash and a 'clunk!'

... 'Clunk?'

The two fighters readied their weapons as Luria lifted the staff up, revealing a rather dazed-looking skeleton head that no doubt had a body attached. It recovered enough, it seemed, for it soon glared at them. It took them a moment to realize the staff had gone through its mouth.

"Some of them are smart enough to hide," Faller remarked, leaning over a bit to get a look. The robed skeleton only snarled and attempted to strike, making her jump back. All that happened was that it further impaled itself on the blue staff. The dervish frowned and readied her scythe. "Shall I finish it off?"

Before anyone could act, however, the skeleton splashed some of the poison water at the humans. Naturally they jumped back to avoid it, Luria dropping her staff in the process. The creature took advantage of that and crawled out of the water, hollow eyes glowing as it stood. Green sludge dripped off its staff became obvious, foreign words coming out of its mouth.

Before it could fire off any spells, Lost shot an arrow at it and through it off guard as it dodged. At that point, Faller charged in and slashed at the sorcerer, turning it into a pile of still bones. The dervish none-too-gently picked them into the poison sludge, sighing as she looked back to Luria who was picking up her staff.

"Can we take off these masks? I'm sure Lost would like them back."

"If you don't mind dying of poison, then sure."

The rest of the journey to the temple was simple yet troublesome. It seemed the closer they got, the more undead there were and the fiercer they seemed to by. At one point they'd had to stop after a particularly nasty ghoul had mauled up a portion of Luria's arms so she could heal herself.

They were quite glad when they reached the temple. And for a moment, it looked like they had managed to best the undead.

"Put your backs into it! We cannot let the Temple of Tolerance fall!"

The trio of travelers heard the voice as they approached, able to easily deduce it to be that of the Confessor. They quickly made there way into the temple, horrorstruck to find that the undead had, in fact, managed to get in.

"I've had just about enough of these fiends," Faller murmured low, almost growling it out. She easily sliced through an approaching group of ghouls and advanced, intending to make her way towards where the Confessor was shouting from.

"Watch yourself!"

The dervish's eyes widened as she felt the power of the chant, acting quickly and managing to get out of the way of a lightning bolt. She looked to Luria and Lost, both of whom currently occupied with an undead of there own. She jumped when a fireball whizzed by her head, and she looked back as she heard the pained screech of what was sure to be an undead creature.

"Geez... Elonians really are stupid, aren't they?"

The Castellan finally noticed the two young women further up as well as the Confessor focused on healing a warrior. Focusing on the young women, she noticed that one was quite pale and pasty, a tint of pink to her skin tone with snow-coloured, shoulder-length hair and icy blue eyes. She wore pure white, rather revealing clothes. Her top covered her chest and arms, cut short and revealing her stomach. Her miniskirt was low, barely on her hips. If anything, the design somewhat resembled ice.

The other woman was much darker, clad in teal clothes that were longer than that of the white woman. Her black hair was almost the exact same length and style as her counterpart except with two small ponytails on the sides of her head. Her skirt was about knee-length, open in the front with a single cloth hanging.

"We're not one to talk, though," the white woman said, placing a hand on her hip as she surveyed the dark one.

"I guess not."

"Faller!" The dervish looked back to see Lost and Luria coming up from behind, smirking slightly at the glare the young monk was shooting at the two, mysterious women. She didn't disapprove, though; something about these women just sent shivers down her spine and kept her guard up.

Before anything else could happen, however, a rather plump looking, red-and-white-and-gold object flew through the air behind the mysterious, barely-clothed women. Five pairs of eyes turned on it as it as revealed to be a plump-looking, fairly dark man with a white cape underneath him. Soon after, a deep-sounding yell and silver-and-gold object also flew through the air and landed at the feet of the caped man, soon getting to its feet and revealing its form to be that of a well-toned, taller-and-stronger-than-average young man wearing iron armour and equipped with a broad sword and iron shield. His legs, feet, and head were all quite well protected; but his chest and arms were poorly protected and exposed, revealing several scars of earlier wounds. Several other, newer cuts were on him as well, a thin trail of blood snaking down his chest.

"Redwolf!" the fair-skinned woman called out, quickly running over to the warrior and leaving her darker companion behind. The warrior reacted briefly, head turning towards her before he got back into a stance.

"There are still many more fiends to be slain," he growled low, echoing slightly due to the way his helmet was. "What are the two of you doing?"

"Civilians made their way here... "

"Civilians?" Faller inquired, stepping forward before holding her scythe up by her scythe and dropping her hood. "Do we honestly look like mere civilians to you?"

"I'll admit," the dark-skinned woman said as she answered instead, folding her arms, "it's strange to see a dervish here of all places."

"We're looking for Confessor Dorian and heard he was here," Luria informed, gripping her staff fairly tightly. "Have any of you seen him?"

"That would be me."

The red-and-white-and-gold clad, white-caped man approached them with his blue, intricately-designed staff. As he became closer to Luria and stepped past Lost and Faller, both fighters took note of the emblem on his cape, both at a loss for words.

"I am Confessor Dorian," the man spoke, his eyes wandering over the young monk's form, most likely taking in her appearance, before looking back to her eyes. "You are not from Kryta, are you?"

"No... I am from Ascalon... "

Skeletons and zombies finally revealed themselves, causing all of them to quickly face them and prepare for battle. Before anything could happen, however, the sky darkened instantly; and fire rained down from the heavens, striking at the enemies and disappearing in fiery blazes without doing any actual harm to the buildings. When that ended and there still appeared to be some left, rocks suddenly lifted up off the ground, swirling around the remaining enemies, colliding and obliterating and even squashing.

When all was said and done, the undead army was nowhere to be found. The warrior - Redwolf - looked back at the two, white and black women. The fair-skinned one was sitting on the ground, breathing fairly heavily but smiling proudly, while the dark-skinned one stood by her side, grinning.

"That takes care of that~"


	5. Chronicle I: V

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form.**_

_**Side Note: Can't think of crap, soo... I'm being a bad writer and posting something under 1k words. Meh.  
**_

* * *

"So the Scepter is safe... that's a relief... "

"Right? So, about our payment~"

"Laleki... "

"What?"

It was strange, watching the three mercenaries chat amongst themselves. It was awkward as they waited while Confessor Dorian ensured that the Scepter of Orr - or whatever it was - was still in pristine condition. The rest of the White Mantle had caught up to them some time ago and vanquished the rest of the undead, leaving the travelers and mercenaries standing there as Dorian kept trying to insist on inducting them.

"Young Monk... Luria, correct?" the Confessor finally spoke, earning the travelers' attention.

"Yes," the monk answered, stepping forward.

"Why has Ascalon sent you?"

"The war against the Charr has made a turn for the worst. We need Kryta's help. Surely you can, having defeated them once before."

The answer was obvious even before they could see the grave look fall upon Dorian's face.

"The Mantle is stretched thin with Civil War," the Confessor admitted. "And we must find and protect our new Chosen from a rebel group known as the Shining Blade. If you'd help us with this small task, perhaps I can arrange for some of our forces to be sent to Ascalon."

"We'll do whatever we can!" Luria assured, and Lost could see the light of hope in her eyes.

There was only one other time he'd seen that...

But when?

* * *

Redwood and the two elementalists had left to do another job farther south, which left the three of them together again. Luria still continued to glare at Faller, who had decided upon accompanying them through the rest of their mission before backtracking to the Temple of Ages, which wasn't entirely a bad plan.

It was a simple task they needed to do. Pick up the Eye of Janthir from Justicar Hablion in Shaemoor; then guide the Eye to Loamhurst while finding and escorting any and all Chosen found along the way.

Simple enough.

Except...

"You need to be cleansed," the Justicar stated simply after surveying the three travelers.

"Excuse me?" Faller asked, giving him a blank look.

"You need to be cleansed."

"Now look here, you good-for-nothing―" Luria had began, but Lost had quickly managed to cover her mouth up with a hand before she had a chance to finish her sentence. The last thing they needed was for hostility between nations.

"Would you mind explaining what you mean?" the ranger asked while focusing on restraining the aggressive monk.

"It's no offense, really," Hablion continued, obviously trying to hide a small fit of snickers. It took a moment before he continued. "You need to go up the hill behind us and cleanse yourself in the Fountain of Truth. Only then will you be allowed to touch the Eye of Janthir."

It made sense, the two eldest thought. Something that powerful and sacred wouldn't allow just anyone to touch it.

With promises that they would return (and swift blow to the back of Lost's head thanks to a certain monk), they trekked up the hill. It was something of a shock to find various breeds of mergoyles awaiting them, yet none lasted long when faced against the dervish or ranger.

"Only one of us needs to be cleansed, right?" Luria asked, looking into the fountain's water.

"Right," Faller answered, strapped her scythe behind her.

"So... who's up?"

"Pass," Lost declared, already walking away. He didn't want to find himself within eyesight, nor did he want to end up mistakingly looking at either female.

Which left the dervish or the monk...

"I'm needed to fight," the Castellan said with a shrug. "I can hardly protect the Eye while fighting."

"You've got to be kidding," the monk groaned.

"It suits you. We'll be over there. Don't take too long now~"

Faller joined Lost at the entrance to the slope, overlooking the city. He refused to take off his mask, yet he knew she was curiously trying to determine his facial expression. He only shrugged; he didn't want to give her the satisfaction quite yet.

What to do...

He didn't like that look the dervish was giving him.

"You're not even a little curious?" Faller wondered with a small laugh. Clearly he was meant to hear, despite her curiousity.

"Not at all," he stated simply.

"What if it was me?" She came closer, her hand on his arm.

"Nope." He pulled his arm away.

"You're no fun... "

It took a short while before Luria came back to join them, squeezing the water out of her hair. She had let it down for the time being, and Faller truly did her best not to say anything about.

The monk looked much younger with her hair down.

Hablion seemed satisfied when they returned, and Luria was tasked with the protection of the Eye of Janthir which... hardly looked like an eye. It was a green, translucent pyramid with an eye in it. It sparked off once, startling the three travelers until it suddenly jumped out of Luria's arms, a bolt of lightning striking and wrapping around her wrist. She winced at first but didn't voice her discomfort.

"Now, off you go," the Justicar instructed. "There are eight Chosen among the villagers. The Eye will lead you right to them."


	6. Author's Note

**Yes, yes, I hate doing this, blah blah, but!**

**This a note saying that no, I'm not dead. Just that between dealing with increased depression, college, and work, I've gotten more than a little busier than I was in high school. The only reason Taking Flight exists is because it's a simple freewrite for when I need a break.**

**I'm admittedly not sure where I'm going with this story. I don't know what's going to happen, and the fanbase for it isn't really huge. It started off as a story utilizing my entire alliance, and then that alliance sort of... fell apart, since the leader was tired of being the leader. We'll have to see, but don't be surprised if this gets dropped... **

**Here's hoping the summer is a bit more merciful!**


End file.
